


The Broken Tower

by castaliareed



Series: Dark Sister, Dark Nights [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cognitive Dissonance, Dark Jon Snow, Darkish Sansa, F/M, First Time Together, Half-Sibling Incest, Half-Siblings, Jonsa Smut Week, Littlefinger (mentioned) - Freeform, Memory Loss, POV Sansa, Ser Wylis Manderly, Sex, Smut, brienne of tarth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: Sansa worries about her argument with Jon and what it could mean for them. She makes a decision. One she hopes will protect them both.





	The Broken Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 3 of Jonsa Smut Week - Anywhere but the Bedroom or First Time.  
> This is technically Chapter 3 of Dark Sister, Dark Nights and like Part 1/Ch.1 and Part 2/Ch.2 this has a bit of both prompts in it. 
> 
> Sansa's dissonance continues. Jon is still having memory lapses. And of course, Sansa is probably making the wrong (or the right) decision..idk..
> 
> In the past, I've done the parentage reveal before they get to this point. This isn't one of those times. Don't worry (or maybe you should) it will all come to a head eventually.
> 
> And thank you for all your comments and support on the previous parts! It means tons and I love chatting with folks. :-)

**Sansa**

"I learned a lot from her," Sansa said. She ignored Jon's darkening eyes preferring to stare out at the snow-covered land, their land, Northern land. Breathing in the cold air, she could feel his glare on her.

Closing the distance between them, "You learned from her? What did you learn?" he said. 

She turned sharply to face him. Cersei Lannister had been her first teacher truly. Maester Luwin, Septa Mordane, her Lady Mother, and her Lord Father, all tried, all taught her letters, her numbers, her arts, her stories and songs.  _All for nothing._  Cersei taught her the truth of the world.  _Showed her the monsters in the world._   She taught her that women have many weapons in their arsenal. Sansa didn't tell Jon that, she was a lady and didn't talk about those things. 

"She taught me about strength and weakness and power," she said.  _And she taught me what you do for love,_ Sansa thought. She didn't tell Jon that either. 

Brushing past her half-brother, her shoulder touched his and she heard him inhale deeply. Jon had been crowned King in the North barely two days and he already did not want to listen to her. 

"We're finished with this conversation, my lady?" he said while she was still close enough to hear his low voice.

"I have duties to see, too. As do you, your grace," she said to him stopping her stride for a moment. She did not turn to look back at him. She did not need too. He was behind her now. She could feel his strong presence. If she leaned back, his arms might wrap around her.

"Sansa," he said in her ear.

"Jon, I'm to see to the repairs that must be finished before the next storm. There are ravens to send."

Jon said nothing more to her. She walked down the battlements back toward the stairs that would lead her to the yard. Behind her, she heard a guard approach Jon, their captain of the guard needed the King's attention.  _Good, see to your duties, Jon. Forget about our fight,_ she thought.

 They had disagreed earlier in the Great Hall before the Lords. She was trying to help him.  Sansa wrung her hands as she walked down the stairs. They had to be careful. Littlefinger would look for any reasons to withdraw his support from Jon. 

 _Littlefinger_ it was not Cersei, Jon had wanted to discuss. Had he seen the look Lord Baelish gave her in the Hall? She thought not. 

The training yard was a buzz with activity. It was not enough to still her wondering mind. She thought of the night of the feast before Jon was crowned. They had argued at first. Jon hated that Littlefinger was at Winterfell. And then...then...she had begged him not to be foolish. He promised her he wouldn't.  _He promised._  It was just a small kiss. Sandor had kissed her, Littlefinger always kissed her in the Vale.

Jon was her king, she had made sure of that. Why should she deny him a few small kisses? To thank him, to show her love.  _Love no one but your children_  Cersei had told her. Surely it was fine to love Jon. He was her family, her only family. They could love each other, and laugh and be silly like children when no one saw. 

She walked the yard, speaking with the master of horses, then the new steward they had put in place. Sansa liked to watch the repairs being made. Imagining how beautiful Winterfell would look when they were finished. 

The very fat Ser Wylis Manderly approached her, "My lady, excuse me, might I have a word about the repairs?"

"Of course, Ser," she said to Lord Manderly's only remaining son. He had made himself more useful than expected. Helping to oversee the workers finishing repairs the Bolton's had started. Attempting to make up for his father's lack of support during the Battle of the Bastards or attempting to present his daughters as useful marriage candidates. The thought made Sansa's head hurt. 

"His grace, wanted the Broken Tower repaired," he said. Sansa pursed her lips,  yes Jon had insisted on it being fixed.

"And there is a problem?" she said.

"My men are concerned it is not fixable," Ser Wylis glanced toward the First Keep and the Broken Tower. She remembered her brother who had fallen from it. Her heart sunk. She had dreamed of rebuilding the Tower, cleansing it of all the tragedy.

"I'll speak with his grace. We may need the Tower, yet." Sansa thought for a moment gazing at the Tower, "Perhaps there is a way."

Ser Wylis bowed and left her in the yard. Sansa felt eyes on her, his eyes. She turned still looking up and found Jon on the covered walkway. Darkness clouded his face, his hand clutched his sword.

Night came earlier and earlier. Sansa was forced inside the Great Keep to sit with messages and letters that must be sent. The table in the room Jon used as his solar was covered in parchments. She started going through their messages. The raven from Cersei on top.

Much as she tried to collect her thoughts and respond to messages sent from Northern Lords, Sansa failed.  _A woman's best weapon_...  _It was only a few kisses from a brother to a sister. They only played for a bit after. He used to wrestle with Robb and Bran when they were children._

Why, just the night before she had helped him write the announcement declaring him King in the North. Jon had asked for her specifically to write it. It took too long to finish only because he kept teasing her while she sat on his lap. Every time she put the quill in her mouth to think, he would suggest some silly word. In retaliation, she used the quill to tickle his neck. When she finished, he praised her words and handwriting. Sansa was so happy, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him lots of soft kisses.  _Oh let him think on that and forget our argument today._ _  
_

Sansa wondered if he would come to see her. She thought to send Brienne to find him and then stopped. It wasn't proper to summon a King, a king who was already cross with her. She refused to give him any more reasons to make a marriage alliance out of her and send her away or even worse find a new Lady of Winterfell. 

The solar grew hot and stuffy. Sansa remembered Ser Wylis' concerns about the Broken Tower, she decided she would go see it's condition for herself. Pulling the furlined hood of her cloak up, she went out into the coldness of the winter night with a torch lighting her way. She was halfway to the tower when she saw the white wolf come up next to her. Jon was close behind, a torch in hand.

"You're walking alone in the dark, my lady," Jon said.

"Better to turn an ankle, your grace," she replied. Jon snorted.

"I looked for you in the solar," he said. 

"Ser Wylis has concerns about repairing the Broken Tower," she said. She thought she heard him grunt, 'Ser Wylis' but decided to ignore that. 

"And you decided to check on this late at night?" he asked. 

"I wanted a walk," she replied. 

"I told you. It's not safe walking by yourself around the castle at night. Not with all these Lords and their men here," he chastised her. 

"I'm fine, you don't need to join me," she said  _but you could if you wanted, too._  Jon continued to walk alongside her. "You want the walls repaired, the tower repaired. I'm trying to fix things. To keep us safe,"  _and be useful so you won't send me away._  Sansa was becoming impatient with his silence. Jon walked ahead of her finding the entrance to the tower. He wore only his woolen jerkin and gloves with his heavy breeches. He didn't seem cold without a cloak. Ghost plopped himself down at the entrance. She placed her torch just inside the entrance. Following Jon as he led the way up the stairs.

The stairs wound up to the very top. Sansa was breathing heavy, the brisk cold air winding her. It did not seem to bother Jon. She admired his strong legs in the tight dark breeches. His wavy dark hair was pulled back from his bearded face.  _He had become a handsome man if a bit serious at times._

Jon circled the room at the top of the tower. Sansa stood in the middle surveying the space. It was still sturdy. They will need this tower in the Great War. One could see to the North or the South from it. If they took the time to make the repairs, it would make a useful watchtower. 

There were stones and broken pieces of wood laying about. The ceiling open in some places. The stone floor had been covered with straw recently Sansa thought. Jon had stopped at an old hearth built into the wall. He squatted down taking off his gloves to begin cleaning it out, peering up the chimney stack to see if it was clear. Sansa distracted herself by peering out the only window in the room. 

"Careful," Jon called to her. "Isn't that how Bran fell?" he asked. She stopped. Jon hadn't said their little brother's name since they were reunited at Castle Black.

"I doubt it," she replied. No one had ever told her or Jon how Bran fell. She doubted anyone knew. "He was always good at climbing."

Jon snorted, "He was a kid."

 Exasperated, did Jon not remember what a good climber Bran was? Not looking at him she said, "You know nothing, Jon."

Sansa went back to looking at the few stars she could see. It was a cloudless night which meant tomorrow would be frigid. There was an eery silence behind her. She realized that Jon had not made a sound, even the breaking of wood to build a fire had stopped. Sansa turned to see him staring at her, his face shrouded in shadows. She stared back. 

"Ygrit..." he started to say then shook his head. "Aaa.." he tried again and shook his head again. It seemed an eternity before he said, "Sansa, Sansa bring me that wood." and he turned back to the hearth. 

Sansa picked up the pieces of wood he had pointed to and brought it to him. She had heard the name before. He once called her that at Castle Black and the wildling women whispered it when they thought she wasn't listening. But the 'Aaa' was he calling her Alayne? She had never told him her bastard name. The minute he heard Littlefinger, pretend father, and bastard he would hear no more about it preferring to hit the wall and then go destroy a few training dummies. 

Jon had fallen into a deep silence. Sansa could only squat beside him, handing him pieces of wood. He used the torch to light the dry wood. The fire smoked for a bit and Sansa coughed so hard she laughed. He fanned the smoke coughing and laughing with her. 

Growing quiet, Sansa said, "This is a good watchtower. To protect us from the North or South." Jon nodded. She thought again about Cersei's raven. The last time the Queen was in Winterfell was when Bran fell. She told Jon this, she told him she wished King Robert and his Lannister Queen had never come to Winterfell. Jon said the same thing he always said, How could they know. How could they know the tragedies that would come?

"I looked for you?" she said. 

"What?"

"At the feast, when King Robert was here," she said. "You promised me a dance."

Jon remained silent. Sansa chatted on, "I know I danced with Joffery first. Then I went to look for you. Robb said you were out in the yard. You had promised me."

"I'm sorry, Sansa," he said.  

"You always said, 'You'll dance with me, anon,'" Sansa mimicked Jon's gruff voice. He smiled giving her a shy sideways look. She bit her lower lip and swallowed. She thought about his short beard scratching her lips when she kissed his cheeks.  

"Truly, I'm sorry," he said again. "If I had know..." he shook his head. 

"Dance with me now," Sansa requested. Jon looked at her sideways for a second time. 

"Now?" he said. Jon ran his hand over his head. His hair was pulled back. 

"If you dare say, anon...Jon Snow," she threatened. He sighed and nodded. She stood unfastening her cloak letting it fall to the ground and straightened her skirts. Jon stood and took her hand, placing his other hand at the small of her back. They were the same height and their eyes met. 

"There's no music," he said.

"I'll sing," she responded. In another time there was another song. A song she sang with a battle raging outside the castle walls. There was no battle tonight. Jon was her king now and she would gladly give him a song. 

The first song she thought of was the sad ballad telling the story of Queen Nerys and her beloved brother Aemon the Dragonknight. Perhaps she should sing something happier but she could not think of a happy song. They moved slowly to the rhythm. She continued humming when she couldn't remember any more verses. He drew her closer to him and she pressed her cheek against his, letting his beard scratch her. 

Sansa listened to Jon's breath and wrapped her arms around his neck leaning her head on his shoulder. 

"Careful," he said to her. Jon was always telling her to be careful. 

"I'm careful," she said. Jon pulled her closer to him, slowing the back and forth motion of their dance. His hands wrapping around her waist.

"No, you were not careful the other night and the night after, my lady," he said. 

"What do you mean," she asked all innocence.  _He means the kisses._

"You know what I mean," he responded. 

Jon forced her to look at him, "Sansa we aren't children anymore. You said so yourself." She blinked back at him hearing his words thinking how long it had been since she danced.

"You smell of smoke," she said to him.

"So do you," he told her shaking his head. He started to loosen his grip on her.  _No, Not yet._

"Take off your jerkin," she said adding "To air it out."   
"Besides, the fire made it warm." She was relieved that her excuse was true as long as they stood near the fire that had grown large in the fireplace. 

"Only if you take off yours," he challenged her. Sansa's eyes widened.

"Jon, I'm a la.."

"Don't say it Sansa Stark," he commanded. "You were no lady after the feast." He stood close to her starting to undo the black jerkin he wore over his grey tunic. 

"We were playing," she defended herself. "You and Robb used to wrestle and Arya always kissed your cheeks."

"I don't remember playing with Robb like that," he responded. Sansa pretended to pout.

"Off," he said again to her. 

"You first," she countered. He shook his head, lifting the jerkin over his head. She bit her lower lip again and began to unlace her dress. She had been wearing her simple grey wool gown with a fur lining. It tied at the side with three sets of laces. Sansa undid the first two letting the front covering her chest fall open. She could feel the cold air on her breasts underneath her white woolen shift. 

Jon sucked in. Sansa didn't take his eyes off him.  _If he wanted her to take her dress off that is what she would do. Just like when they were children running in the Godswood or swimming in the hot springs._ She undid the third lace letting the front of her skirt fall open. The dress slid off her shoulders, falling to the ground. Sansa thought she should be cold but the fire still crackled. 

He reached out pulling her towards him. She placed her arms around his neck. 

"Are we still dancing?" she asked. 

"Do you want to keep dancing?" he said.  _It had been so long._ She nodded. They moved together. His hands glided up and down her waist. She ran her hand through his hair to loosen the tie that held it back from his face. 

She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and he sighed. "Sansa, we're not children."

"I know," she agreed, resting her cheek against his.  _If we were children we could stay at Winterfell just like this._  No one would ask to marry either of us. He wouldn't send her away for an alliance. She touched her nose to his and Sansa knew what she must do. She couldn't play the girl anymore. Didn't want to play the girl anymore. She would keep both of them safe, here in Winterfell.  _Seduce him. A women's weapon._

Pressing her lips to his full ones, Jon gasped in surprise. He kissed her back. He was hungry for her mouth, forcing her tongue open with his. Sansa surprised herself for she was just as hungry. Jon turned with her, pushing her against the wall. She could feel his cock harden in his breeches. Her hands went up underneath his tunic clawing at his chest. She let her right hand slip down lower and lower until it loosened the laces on the breeches and slipped between the fabric of his small clothes. His cock was warm and smooth, she found she liked the feel of it in her hand. 

Sansa let Jon pull up her wool shift exposing her thighs to the frigid air. He lifted her wrapping her thighs around his waist. Her hand had to leave his cock to hold onto his shoulders. Pressed against the hard stone wall, his hand found his way between her legs and underneath her small clothes. He rubbed her nub making her moan before putting her fingers inside her moving them back and forth. 

Jon growled, "Yes," he said. "That's it." A fire rose in her belly and she moaned. She bit his neck to try to slow the sensations rolling through her body to no avail. Her head lifted and her eyes rolled back when she cried out. 

He pulled his hand away and she whimpered. "Nooo.." she moaned breathless. "Don't..don't stop touching me."

"Aye, you're greedy, now," he said. She watched him put his hand to his mouth licking the wetness from between her legs. 

"Yes," she said taking his finger to put it in her mouth. 

Jon growled again grabbing her legs and turned to lower her on to the straws covering the stone of the tower room's floor. Jon pulled her boots, stockings, and small clothes away leaving her only in her shift. Rubbing her nub a bit more before he used one arm to pull his grey tunic over his head. 

Sansa kissed his chest running her hand on his scars down to his stomach before fumbling for the laces of his breeches to loosen them further. His cock popped out hard and already dripping. She moved her hands up and down not letting go as he pushed the breeches and small clothes to his knees and eventually all the way off in between kisses. 

They were near enough the fire that she forgot about the cold. Jon rolled onto his back pulling her on top of him bringing them closer to the warmth. She was looking down at him her hands bracing his chest like the night of the feast only this time there were no heavy skirts, no woolen breeches, between her sex and his manhood. She could feel it twitching against her inner thigh. 

He leaned up on his elbows to suck on her tit. _Oh, gods that was wonderful._ She moved back and forth against his hips. His cock so near the entrance to sex. He turned is attention to the neglected breast sucking on that one while squeezing the other. Her nipples hard and pointy. 

When Jon laid back again, he ran his hand through her hair. Sansa leaned down to kiss his chest. She could feel him shift underneath her. 

"Sansa," he said. "Sansa look at me." Rising up to gaze at his face. He asked, "Do you want this?"

"Do you?" she asked back. He kissed her and she shifted until his cock was almost inside her.  

"Tell me you want this," he said. She thought of the North, of Winterfell, her home, her family, of him. There was only one answer. 

"Yes," she said with more love in her heart then she could ever understand. She kissed him again their tongues pressing against each other. Jon pushed his manhood inside her as slowly as he could. It hurt for a moment and she grasped. _It had never been like this. She had never desired it like this._

Sansa raised up for a moment so just his tip was inside her and lowered herself again taking him in fully. His eyes widened and he placed his hands on her hips. Holding her, Sansa rocked gently back and forth on his cock. Jon reached for her breasts, he even rubbed her nub while she moved up and down. She leaned forward to kiss him. He held her tightly thrusting his hips up, pushing his manhood deep into her. She moaned. Her mind went blank. 

Jon flipped her onto her back slowing his movements. Sansa was lulled into calmness, her thighs wrapped around him, her hands caressing his back. She thought she could stay like this forever, with him inside her just like this. She ran her tongue back and forth along his collarbone and neck even in the cold she could taste the salt of his sweat. Jon groaned and thrust his cock harder into her. Sansa's breath grew heavy again and that same feeling began to rise her belly. She tried to hold it in. She gripped his back tighter digging her nails into his skin. She pressed her lips together. 

"Let it go, Sansa," he growled. 

"I..I.." she said. "Ohhh gods, oh my gods." It was a fire she couldn't put out, didn't want to put out. It made her shake and moan and cry out. 

Jon grunted, "I can't..much longer," he said between heavy breaths. He thrust into her again and held it there, letting out a deep groan. 

He supported himself placing his hands on the stone ground on either side of her head. He kissed her and pulled his wet cock out of her. He rolled to the side of her and propped his head up with one hand, running his hand over her soft stomach with the other. 

Sansa's breath was slow and heavy. Words had left her entirely, her eyes glazed over. 

"Sansa, are you ok?" he said. She turned to him. Jon searched her face. "Say something."

She locked her fingers into his pulling his arms around her as she turned onto her side her back to his stomach. 

"Sansa," he said again.

"I'm cold," she finally replied. He kissed her neck. Untangling himself from her, he stooked the fire and found her dress and cloak. Wrapping them both in the heavy wools and fur, they laid on the straw covering the stone floor. 


End file.
